


Velcro

by justrae2010



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Clothes, M/M, NSFW, Smut, VictUuri, Victuuri Week, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010
Summary: Finally, the door swung open.Victor dropped the dog lead.His husband stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a small pair of black boxer briefs -Victor’s boxer briefs- and the unmistakable red and white Team Russia Olympic jacket. Victor’s Olympic jacket. Victor felt his jaw drop.Holy fuck._______Wrote listening toVelcro by Clairity.NSFW Victuuri Week Day 2Prompt: Clothes.





	Velcro

Victor had never imaged he would ever need to use the doorbell to his own apartment but there he was one Friday afternoon, Makkachin whining at his heels and sleet blustering around his face. The icy wind nipped at his red nose, coat tugged tight around him.

He could have sworn his key had been in his coat pocket. Maybe it had been when he’d left for Makkachin’s walk, but it certainly wasn’t there now. 

Perhaps it had gotten caught in his wool gloves when he’d pulled his hand of his pocket and had dropped somewhere in the snow. Perhaps it had flown out his pocket when he’d been chasing after Makkachin in the park. Perhaps it had slipped through the lining of his coat where the stitching had worn. Perhaps it was still in the depths of his pocket where he’d left it, only now his ungloved fingers were too frostbitten to have been able to feel it even if it was there.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was stood outside his apartment with his teeth chattering - heel of his palm jabbing into the doorbell because his fingers were too numb - and mood souring more minute by minute.

“Come on, Yuuri…” he muttered under his breath. He felt like he’d been waiting for ages.

His husband was definitely home. They’d both come home from practise together, Victor drawing the short straw to take Makkachin on his blood chilling walk since Yuuri had taken his turn the day before. 

Victor’s foot tapped impatiently. Air huffed through his lips, misting in a cloud in front of his face and brushing a fresh chill over his face as it was carried off by the stuff breeze. Makkachin’s tail wagged against the back of his leg, tapping away at his quickly waning patience. Where was his key? In his coat somewhere? In his gym bag? On the edge of the kitchen counter, from where he’d left it to fix Makkachin’s lead? He wasn’t sure. He was sure finding out would just put him in an even worse mood somehow. 

_ Finally,  _ the door swung open.

Victor dropped the dog lead.

His husband stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a small pair of black boxer briefs -  _ Victor’s boxer briefs -  _ and the unmistakable red and white Team Russia Olympic jacket. Victor’s Olympic jacket. Victor felt his jaw drop.

_ Holy fuck.  _

The toned muscles of Yuuri’s body were on perfect display, full thighs and the fine lines of muscle carving Yuuri’s abs framed by the jacket nicely. The underwear was tight on Yuuri’s hips, tiny roll of fat overspilling the taut waistline. It made Victor’s mouth water. Black hair hung in unruly damp lumps over Yuuri’s forehead, still dripping wet from the shower and a bead of water ran down over the ridge of his jaw, trailing the length of his throat, caught by tanned skin of his collarbone, and -

“Victor?”

Victor’s eyes shot up to his husband’s face. It was only then he noticed how far his neck had to jerk to meet Yuuri’s furrowed brown gaze; just how much had he been  _ staring? _

Victor’s jaw bobbed. How was talking suddenly so difficult? Words escaped him in all three languages he was fluent in, melting away from his tongue the second his gaze strayed back down to the delectable stretch marks painting Yuuri’s thighs.  _ Damn _ . He dragged back to Yuuri’s face again.

The younger man had his forearm braced against the doorframe, weight leaned on one leg so his hip arched out ever so slightly to the side. It was an enticing sight. Only Yuuri wasn’t trying to be sexy. Clearly. His face was lightly scrunched with confusion, eyebrows crinkled and lips parted curiously. Round brown eyes stared out at him, glittering beautifully. 

But seeing Yuuri half naked, wearing nothing but Victor’s clothes … Victor’s blood ran south, a part of his anatomy distinctly warmer than it had been a few minutes ago.

He felt his eyes swirl a shade darker. 

Yuuri’s gaze followed Victor’s and a crimson flush splashed over his cheeks, arm crossing over his front and tugging the jacket further across his chest. If he thought his nakedness was the problem, he was wrong. Victor bit back a groan in the back of his throat, teeth crashing down on his lower lips as he watched Yuuri stretch the red ‘ _ RU _ ’ firmly over his chest, wearing Victor’s colours comfortably. 

Well,  _ almost  _ comfortably.

“Sorry,” Yuuri mumbled, rolling his eyes shyly to the side. “I just got out the shower, and heard the doorbell ring, and your clothes were closest in the closet, and… I-I mean, I didn’t mean to. I just grabbed the nearest-  _ umph!” _

Victor cut him off with a kiss.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist and walk him backwards into the apartment, heel kicking the door shut behind him. Makkachin had long bolted into the warmth.

Yuuri stumbled to keep up with him, lips stuttering to meet Victor’s frantic kiss. He wasn’t waiting for Yuuri to catch up. Victor kissed him  _ hard _ , tongue dominating Yuuri’s and teeth dragging teasingly on his husband’s lower lip, something possessive growling happy when Yuuri whimpered into his mouth. The younger skaters hip bounced into the kitchen counter, hand scrambling behind him to steady himself.

Victor’s keys rattled as they hit the floor.

“Victor, what-”

Victor delved his fingers past the zip running down the middle of his jacket, icy fingertips fanning out greedily over the warm expanse of Yuuri’s chest. The younger man flinched, hand shooting to Victor’s wrist.

The Russian stilled out of courtesy, grazing his mouth off Yuuri’s. His next breath was shaky.

“Victor, you’re freezing….”

A flittering smile glanced over Victor’s face, leaning back a fraction to shrug his heavy trench coat off his shoulders. It thudded hard against the wooden floor. 

As soon as it did, Victor’s hands were back against Yuuri’s chest, sighing happily at the heat sapping into his frozen fingers from his husband’s hot - in more ways than one - body. Victor’s mouth dropped down to the base of Yuuri’s throat, biting softly. “Then warm me up.”

He sacrificed the warm haven of Yuuri’s body just long enough to reach down behind his husband’s thighs, lifting him up suddenly to prop him on the kitchen counter. Yuuri squeaked when he left the ground. The second he was set down though Victor stepped back in close, slotting himself snugly between his husband’s ample thighs and pressing his already prominent arousal against Yuuri’s half hard length, tightly clad in Victor’s black briefs.

Yuuri groaned into Victor’s mouth as a roll of his husband’s hips left him mewling. “Victor…”

“You have no idea how hot you look.” Victor said, leaning in to graze his teeth along Yuuri’s jaw. He felt his husband melt in his arms. “In my jacket…”

His hand trailed down the toned expanse of Yuuri’s torso down to the growing bulge trapped in Victor’s underwear, fingertip trailing along the already firm line of Yuuri’s budding erection. Fingers delved tight into his silver hair in response, Yuuri’s head tipping back.

Air left him in a gasp. “I had so many posters of you in it.” he rasped, hips rolling up into Victor’s palm. “Always -  _ uhn  _ \- wanted to know what it felt like.”

Victor smiled into the bruise he was sucking into the side of Yuuri’s neck, feeling a bead of moisture stain the front of the material clothing Yuuri’s cock. Blood vessels burst under Victor’s lips, shivers of excitement running through Yuuri in response. 

A gentle kiss pressed over the blooming bruise. “And?”

The Russian’s figners were still slightly numb, slipping a little as they fumbled with the zipper at the front of his jeans. Dragging down his underwear was easier, thumb hooked into the waistband.

“It’s so  _ good _ .”

Yuuri obviously meant more than just the jacket.

His hips lifted helpfully as Victor dragged the tight underwear down his husband’s thighs, fingers scrambling to get rid of the flimsy material as fast as he could. As soon as Yuuri’s cock bobbed free, Victor closed the gap - lips attacked lips, and erection met erection, precum slicking every enticing drag of their cocks against the other in a way that made Yuuri swear under his breath in Japanese. 

Victor wasn’t far behind in his own mother tongue, clinging to the lingering threads of sanity Yuuri was quickly shredding him of as the the younger skater moved to shrug the jacket off.

A sharp hand stopped him. 

Fingers tangled in the collar, holding it firmly over Yuuri’s body. “Don’t.” Victor sighed brokenly over Yuuri’s lips, voice rasping. “Keep it on.”

It was the sexiest thing he had seen since the night Yuuri had first seduced him at that damned Sochi banquet all those years ago. Yuuri was definitely keeping the jacket. The thought of Yuuri falling apart wrapped in Victor’s emblem, in his flag, in his colours - Victor groaned hard into Yuuri’s mouth just thinking about it, hand wrapping around their joined erections. It set his blood on fire, watching Yuuri writhe with pleasure in his clothes. He hoped Yuuri never took it off again.

Teeth crashed down on Yuuri’s lower lip and broke the kiss, foreheads touching together as Victor’s hand picked up the pace between them. Victor felt Yuuri’s breath hitch.

“Victor, I’m-”

“Me too.”

“But the jacket-”

“I don’t care.”

He really didn’t. He would happily ruin a stupid jacket for the sake of this one erotic moment, for the chance to see Yuuri in his jacket and splattered with his cum…

Victor’s hips stuttered.

His lips pressed hard against Yuuri’s and swallowed the younger man’s whine as he shattered, spurting between them in thick white ropes. His body trembled, hips rolling into Victor’s fist to prolong the pleasure as he rode out his high with abandon. 

Victor wasn’t far behind. 

Fingers held tight enough onto Yuuri’s hips to leave bruises as the pleasure crashed through him and his release snagged on Yuuri’s stomach, mingling with Yuuri’s in a way that had his loins stirring all over again before he’d even settled back down to Earth again. It was intense. It was mind-shattering. It was hot… it was all Yuuri.

Victor grazed his mouth off Yuuri’s as the thrum of pleasure settled into his bones and his heartbeat started to level, gasping in Yuuri’s sigh.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Yuuri’s lips curled in a smile, forehead dropping to Victor’s shoulder.

“If I’d known I’d get this treatment, I would have worn your clothes a lot sooner.” He chuckled. “You really like it that much?”

“Never take it off.”

It spilled from Victor’s lips faster than he was proud of but he couldn’t take them back one they were out, feeling the heat of Yuuri’s blush more than he saw it. Something inside him stirred again in response. 

He stepped away for half a beat to rearrange Yuuri’s legs, hooking one arm around his shoulders and another under the crook of Yuuri’s knees to lift him clean off the counter. Yuuri’s arms wrapped around his neck, holding on tight. His chin tilted up to snag the Russian’s lips in a gentle, lazy kiss, but it wasn’t enough to dull the lust re-sparking in the pit of Victor’s stomach. Not that he was complaining as his husband carried him to the bedroom, red and white Olympic jacket still draped over his shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> Keep tabs on my tumblr [here](https://justrae2010.tumblr.com/) and check out my other YOI fics [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010)
> 
> Please drop a comment before you go !


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